So lately I’ve been suffering from writer’s block. I’m sure every writer in the known universe has had this problem and I’m sure every one of them finds it just as frustrating as I do. I started working on my current novel, my second attempt at writing something publish-able, about a year and a half ago. I told myself that I would be finished with it, come Hell or high water, in a year. Well, neither Hell nor high water came, but life itself intervened and it’s still not finished. The idea for this book came to be when I was barely 13 and just starting junior high. Back then, I had a fascination with all things fantastical, especially unicorns. So the main characters, in my original manuscript, were a unicorn and a Pegasus. Yeah, I know, it’s cheesy but I was 13 so you can’t fault me that much. Since then the story has evolved and I really think, once I can get past the blockage in my brain, it’ll be great. Why do writer’s find writer’s block so annoying? Well, I picture my story as a highway winding through a lonely countryside. It’s a highway that I’ve travelled many, many times and it’s beginning and ending are as familiar to me as the inside of my own home. There’s just one problem. A part of the highway has been washed out so there’s a huge section of the road that just isn’t there. And I’m so close to the end of the journey that I can see my destination, but I don’t have a way to get across the chasm. So I guess I’ll just spend some more time, staring at my blinking cursor, staring at that faraway destination and trying my hardest to weave enough words together to get across to the other side. In the meantime, here’s an excerpt from my second novel Seer’s Soul.
Dashenrii lay on his back on the flat top of the rock, staring up at the heavens as the breathing of the others began to level off. He had never seen anything so beautiful as the stars wheeling overhead. They were like diamond dust, scattering across the black velvet of the sky, and the moon rode among them, a bright silver sliver among the splendor. Dashenrii closed his eyes for a moment and gave a slight push with his mind. He felt the familiar click somewhere behind his eyes and when he opened them, the world was ablaze with light and color.
This was the meniak as only the Seer could experience it, the world alive with light. There were streaks of light blue – almost the exact color of the sky when they had come out of the forest, meandering lazily across the sky, so the stars looked like they were swimming in a neon fog. Dashenrii sat up and looked around and smiled. Each living thing gave off it’s own colored light, from the soft green rising from the grass and flowers, to the vivid red that was released by a hare hiding among the rocks to the startling lavender from the hawk soaring overhead. They all released their own energy and it in turn joined with the flow of the earth. To Dashenrii, this flow was a shimmering curtain in the air, like a mist that reflected all the colors that joined it. It was a steady, beating pulse, the heartbeat of the world. He could feel that pulse entering his body as a deep, resounding ache, sweet and lingering and when it left, he could feel his energy strengthened with it.
Dashenrii turned to the others sleeping at the camp and smiled when he saw the strong, dark blue cloud lingering around Farmet and the royal purple around Tenesia. Strong, healthy colors for the people that he loved most of all. Baea was another story altogether. Dashenrii himself didn’t give off a colored energy like all other living things, because his energy was, in essence, the meniak itself. Baea was the same way. The shimmering fog of the meniak entered her on each inhale and was released stronger and healthier on the exhale. Dashenrii frowned as he wondered if she had ever seen the world as he was seeing it now. He would have to show her one day.